This Ordinary Life (10 page)

But my playlist ends and I pull the mic to me, banishing any other thoughts from interrupting my broadcast.

“This next song is dedicated to Sunita,” I say, reading one of the emails in my inbox. “For all the times you listened and cared and are always, always there. Love you! From Shelby. What an awesome dedication. Nothing like a best friend!” I hit play on the next song and sit back again.

My text dings. It's Frankie.

Great show this morning! Love you, bff!

I smile and text back, then scan the emails for what I'll use in my next bit.

An email from Wes McEnroe cycles into the list and I can't help but smile.
How about a song for my new, and kind of dorky, friend?
Dedicated to her time in the magazine aisle,
the subject reads. And in the body of the email a song title:

Free FALLING by Tom Petty. (In case you thought I didn't notice you almost topple over).

Very funny. Falling, eh? Well I'll take your fall and raise you. Two can play at this game. I giggle as I scroll through my music.

I cue up a song and pull the microphone to me. “This next one goes out to someone named Sunny. This listener looks up to Sunny with great admiration, and he admits, sometimes even jealousy for how perfect she truly is as he wishes he could be more like her every day and in every way. So, Sunny, this one is for you. It's an oldie, but here is: “Wind Beneath My Wings.”

I laugh to myself as I play the song, and slide my cell phone toward me. As I expect, it buzzes almost instantly.

OMG. wind beneath my f-n wings?

hahahahhaaa

keep laughing sunny. just wait

I finish my show, turn the recording off, and pack up to get to first period. My program went 45 minutes and I had a lot of segments with friendship dedications and even an on-air caller with a story to share. Next Wednesday I have an interview set up with Student Government Association president Farrah Wiggins, since everyone is dying to know what next year's budget is keeping and cutting as far as extracurriculars and specials. I really need to start prepping for it and nail down my exact questions. I'm obviously trying to get enough clips for my interview to show I know my way around a radio show and on-air interviews are a big part of that. Not that the internship will be much more than probably getting coffee and buttering bagels. Even still, I'd give my left arm to butter bagels for the Get Up and Go crew.

When I close the station door behind me, the energy of my broadcast still pulses through me as I hike my bag on my shoulders and head to first period.

“Jazz!”

My mood plummets faster than a brick dropped in water. I take a deep breath and turn around with a smile for my ex-boyfriend. “What brings you to this far corner of the school, Sebastian? I hope you didn't come all the way over here just to talk to me. Surely you have more important before-school activities to keep you busy? What's her name again?”

I walk fast, fast enough that he has to rush to keep up. “Jazz. Stop walking for a second. Geez, girl.”

I stop and cross my arms. “Speak.”

“Your show was great this morning.”

I compose my face into the coolest expression I can as if I'm utterly bored, even though my heart and thoughts are doing their coyote chasing the roadrunner thing. I shake my head and mentally slap myself. Why am I stopping for him?

Newsflash: I'm not.

“If you've got something to say, Sebastian, spit it out because I have to get to class and I don't have time for this. Or you.”

“You seem really good,” he says quietly. “Happy.”

I don't answer, but inside I seethe. What, does he want me to fall at his feet sobbing and begging for answers on why he threw our relationship away and cheated on me? What the hell? It's like my not falling apart or being outwardly miserable is a disappointment to him or something. I guess my stony exterior is believable after all.

“I mean, I'm happy you're okay.”

Maybe it's a guilty conscience. Maybe he's looking to be forgiven. Whatever it is, I'm not taking the bait.
Do not notice how sincere he looks. How sincere he sounds.
I start walking again, more
quickly this time, and damn him, he follows me all the way to the science wing.

When I reach my chemistry lab, Sebastian stops me with a hand on my arm before I can escape inside.

“Say something.” His eyes search mine and I slap the teeny tiny part of me that knows that look so well and that's tempted by the familiarity.

“What is there to say?” It comes out with way more venom than I intend and Sebastian steps back.

“I'm sorry, okay?” He says the words softly. His hand inches toward mine, and I cross my arms again.

“Yep.
That
I can agree with.”

“It was a mistake, Jazz. A huge mistake. I loved you so much. Love you. Please believe me. Give me another chance?”

I take a deep breath. How easy it would be. Too fall back into step with him. To be the other half of Jasmine and Sebastian like I've been for so long.

No way. I can't. I'm worth more than he gave me.

“Sorry Sebastian. You made your decision. We're over. Now please leave me alone.”

So I can finish getting over you, once and for all.

Once I'm parked safely at my lab table and away from Sebastian, I pull out my chem book and last week's lab notes with shaking hands. How dare he follow me down here and
apologize
and ruin an otherwise perfectly good day.

I pull out my schedule for next week's Easy Easton Mornings. Going over the details for my interview and segments calms me immediately. By the time Frankie slides into the seat next to mine, I'm feeling totally zen and have almost forgotten about my jackass of an ex.

“You were awesome this morning!” Frankie says. “We were totally listening to you while we had breakfast. Mom says your radio personality is shining through big time.”

I smile. Frankie's family has been like a second family to me so many times. Her mom often sends me home with trays of home cooked meals for my family and I always go back-to-school shopping with them, where she manages to buy me a few things. Not to mention listening to my family rants and always giving helpful advice. I seriously love those people.

I whisper-tell Frankie about Sebastian harassing me on the way to class with his weird intentions and apologies. She rolls her eyes but her nostrils flare as she listens to the story.

“What an assclown!” she whispers as our strict chemistry teacher stands in front of the class to begin. “He better stay away from you. You don't need his crap! I'll seriously go off on him, if you want.”

“Not worth your time. Or mine.”

“He's not getting to you, is he? I mean, not in a take him back sort of way?”

“No way I'll take him back.”

Frankie frowns, seeing right to the heart of my emotions. “I know it hurts,” she says. “I could kill him for that.”

“It's fine,” I say. “It's already way better than it was. I just never want to go through this again.”

The loudspeaker crackles. “Mr. Karns, can you please send Jasmine Torres down to the office?”

What now? I start to repack my bag, a pit of worry spreading in my stomach like spilled poison. Please, please, please, do not be something serious.

Frankie leans over and whispers.

“Maybe Sebastian is down there crying from his broken heart and they want you to see his anguish?”

I laugh weakly as I pack up and head toward the door.

I move quickly in the hallway though. I get called to the office a lot—it's usually Mom with some message or needing me to do something for Danny or something. We aren't allowed to
use cell phones in school so she always calls the main office or guidance, calling me out of class and making a way bigger deal than things need to be. Except of course when it is serious, which happens way too often. But I guess I could be in some kind of trouble. Doubtful, but you never know. Maybe someone caught on to my on the air public insult to Sebastian?

Good morning Easton high, welcome to Today in Jasmine's frantic brain.

Mrs. Robin, the school secretary, stands at the counter collating papers but stops when I come in. She rushes around the counter with a serious look on her face. “Your mom called. There's been a family emergency with your brother. She wanted you to know. She's on her way to the hospital and said she'll call you when she has more news.”

I fall into one of the office waiting room chairs. Damn it. I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them the room appears tilted and my breath comes in short bursts. “It was another seizure.”

Mrs. Robin sits next to me with a hand on my knee. “I'm sorry sweetie. It was. She said it happened at school. She'll call you as soon as she has news.”

“I need to get there.”

Mrs. Robin nods. “Do you have a car? I'm sure Dr. Johnson would excuse the day given the circumstances.”

I shake my head, my face buried in my hands. I thought he was better now. I thought the new medicine would help. It's only been a few weeks, but we were all starting to let our guard down. I take short, rapid-fire, machine gun breaths.

“How about another family member?” Mrs. Robin asks. But we've been through this before. There is no one else in my family that can help. But I guess they have to ask.

I look at her, but everything is blurry, as if she's under water. “Frankie. Her mom gave permission for her to help out when needed,” I say. “She's my best friend.”

Mrs. Robin gently takes my hand and leads me to the principal's office. “Let's go talk to Dr. Johnson and see if we can work this out to get you to your family.”

F
RANKIE DRIVES TO
the hospital with one hand on mine. I lean my head back against the seat, trying to calm my racing mind. Frankie's citrusy perfume fills the space and every deep breath I take is filled with it. It's familiar and comforting, even though it's strong enough to make my eyes water.

I just hung up with Mom. She's still at the hospital, but it seems Danny is stable. Apparently, it wasn't too bad, all things considered, but since the school's policy is to always call the ambulance when there is a seizure, a trip to the hospital was in order. But I don't know the details yet so I'm not sure how true that is.

We're silent all the way there, which is welcome. I hate the pity looks people give me when they find out my brother has epilepsy. Or worse, the well-meaning
he'll be okay
statements. I mean, he may not be okay. Ever. I hope he is, but there are no guarantees. Anyway, with Frankie, even as loud as she is, she knows when I need her to just quietly be there.

She pulls into the St. Bonaventure complex and drives toward the parking lot.

“You can drop me off at the door.”

“I'm coming in.” She says it like she's made a decision. But there's no need. She shouldn't miss school. Frankie is super strict about attendance and grades. I know she wants to be there for me, but it's really not necessary.

“I'm fine. I'd rather deal with my mom alone. Seriously.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure. Besties?”

“Forever.” With a quick hug goodbye, she drops me off, and I walk into the hospital with my heart thumping.

When I get to the pediatric ER, Danny is sitting up on the second bed, reading an obviously well worn (and probably covered in gross germs) copy of an old Dr. Seuss book. Mom sits in a chair against the wall, her face drooping with exhaustion. She gives me a small, weak-tea smile.

“Hey!” I pull Danny into a hug. He smells like Danny, all little boy sweat and dirt with a faint whiff of Doritos, and his arms wrap around me like they always do, little fingers settling softly against the back of my neck. I pull back and look into his eyes. Regular Danny. I exhale. “How you doing, buddy?”

“I'm fine, Jazzy! I only fell asleep. This is stupid I have to be here. We had an assembly this afternoon. With a
hypnotist.
A real live hypnotist! And I am missing it. So why do I have to be here
again?
I'm sick of this. I miss everything.” He kicks the book off the side of the bed.

Blowing out a huge breath, I sit next to him and try to pull him closer but he pushes me away.

“Come on, Danny. Tell me what happened.”

He shakes his head violently, the wires, electrodes and mesh cap whipping with the movement.

“I'm sick of talking about it. Nothing happened! I told you I was just tired.” He crosses his arms and looks up at the television. “Leave me alone!”

Mom raises her eyebrows and gives me a look that says this isn't the first time she's heard Danny say this this morning. I raise mine in return. What do I try next? A little help from her would be nice. Geez.

I decide to take a different approach, sticking with topics that make Danny happy. “Did you draw anything today?”

His eyes light up a little. “Yeah. I drew Iron Man at snack time. You can see it later.”

“Cool. So what happened after that? After snack?”

He gives me a warning look, but not nearly as volatile as he was a few minutes ago.

“It was in math,” he says, brown eyes huge in his face. “After snack I get tired sometimes. It was nothing. I think I fell asleep for a minute. My teacher makes a big deal over everything. And then I look like a big idiot in front of all my friends!”

I sigh, and pick up his hand in mine, kissing his knuckles. There's no way to know what really happened. “I doubt anyone thinks that. Your friends love you. Your teacher is only being careful to take care of you, like she does with everyone in the class.”

Mom gives me a low thumbs up for smoothing things over and the iceberg around the Mom part of my heart softens a little. I take in a shaky breath, hoping I made him feel at least a little better about it all.